


Lester Family Hospitality

by yikesola



Series: giving the people what they want [5]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, kath pov, non-youtuber au, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 17:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola
Summary: The morning’s misty rain has turned into a genuine Manchester autumn downpour. As Kath walks past a novelty shop, she spots a young man facing the brick wall of the building. His arm is bent against the wall, and he’s leaning his forehead against his arm, and the poor thing is shaking with what Kath fears might be sobs.An au fic about hot meals and serendipity.





	Lester Family Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



> thanks to [dizzy](http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/) for the amazing Phanfiction Events Spring Fic Exchange prompt and to [yiffandquiff](http://yiffandquiff.tumblr.com/) for the beta!  
> Prompt: _Non-youtuber au where Dan is new to Manchester and hates uni and Kath finds him stranded in the rain and brings him home because she thinks a hot meal can cure anything, and an immediate mutual crush develops between Dan and Phil._

Kath had already driven into Manchester for lunch with a friend when they texted to cancel just as she was pulling into shopping centre’s car park. And since she was in town anyways, she decided she might as well have the day to herself rather than drive all the way back home. Home where there was a husband half-heartedly grumbling about tending the garden on a rainy Saturday, an older son who was grumbling because his girlfriend was visiting with her family in Sweden as opposed to visiting Rawtenstall with him, and a younger son who was grumbling about not knowing what to do with his life now that he was out of uni.

She had all the sympathy in the world for her men, of course. She understood their grumbles. But she wanted a little time away from them. She figured she deserved as much.

She window shops for most of midday, and afterwards sits for a coffee and people-watches for a bit. Around noon, the morning’s misty rain has turned into a genuine Manchester autumn downpour and she’s walking under her faithful umbrella. As she’s walking past a novelty shop, she spots a young man facing the brick wall of the building.

He’s out of the rain for the most part because he’s standing under the building’s awning, but his shoes and the ankles of his jeans look soaked through. His arm is bent and pressed against the brick wall. He’s leaning his forehead against his arm, and the poor thing is shaking with what Kath fears might be sobs.

He’s about as tall as her youngest, she sees, and they both have that same sort of hairstyle that drives her mad because it’s straightened to cover most of their faces, and as a mother she just feels an urge to push the fringe out of their eyes. He might even be a little younger than her youngest, she thinks, because there’s something almost fragile about him that’s breaking her heart. But maybe it’s his posture… bent and slouched and almost mournful.

She steps towards him without thinking a moment more. “You alright, love?” she asks.

The boy’s head jerks up at her voice. He turns to face her and she can see even clearer now that his eyes are bloodshot and swollen and shining with tears. She digs in her bag for a packet of tissues and hands one to him while he’s busy apologising and saying that nothing’s wrong. She notes his accent is distinctly southern; he’s far from home.

“None of that, you wouldn’t be looking such a mess if nothing were wrong. C’mon now, out with it.” She rubs a hand over his shoulder as he wipes his face with the gifted tissue. Yes, just about Phil’s height— lifting her hand so much higher than her own shoulder to reach this boy’s feels familiar.

“I just…” he clears his throat and lets out another little sob, “I have the worst butterfingers in the world. And I was looking at a mug I thought I might like to buy for my Nan and I, er, I dropped it. And it was stupidly more expensive than I was meaning to buy anyway. And I had to pay for it, since it smashed to pieces. And now I have no birthday present for my Nan and no money to buy one and no money for food this month and no money for bus fare back to uni because I had to spend it all on stupid broken pieces of ceramic!” He blows his nose in the tissue that had been well soaked with tears. Kath hands him a second one. “And now I’m just rambling to you and wasting your time and using your tissues,” he pouts. “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Kath tuts. “Oh my poor boy.” She tugs on his shoulders until he is folded into a hug. There was a tremor of hesitation from him as she did so; maybe the boy wasn’t a hugger, maybe he just didn’t make a habit of hugging strangers. Still, it was needed. Clearly. He lets out another little sob over Kath’s shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” he says when they pull apart. “I’m crying over nothing.”

“You are not,” Kath says, her thumbs wiping away his fresh tears. “Listen, I’m a little peckish, and goodness knows I could never finish a whole pizza to myself. Would you do an old lady a favour and have lunch with me?”

The boy shakes his head. “You don’t have to… you’re being too nice…”

“Please don’t haunt me with guilt for the rest of my life when I wake up tomorrow reading the headline _Boy Starves to Death While Walking Back to Uni in the Cold October Rain_.”

That gets him to laugh. Kath’s always known how to get folks to laugh. She’s glad it works here; she feels a little relieved every time it does work that she hasn’t lost her touch.

“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I don’t have any money,” he says.

“My treat,” Kath says, nodding and wrapping her arm around his. She walks towards the pizza parlour and he lets her lead, sharing the umbrella. Her shorter legs take twice as many quick strides as his long ones.

*

“I’m Dan,” the boy says when they’re sat at a table after ordering and sipping their waters.

“I’m Kathryn,” she says. She’s checked the time on the watch Nigel bought her on their seventeenth anniversary. It’s one of her favourites; she wears it nearly every day. It tells her that she really ought to be heading back home in an hour or so. But she doesn’t think that will be enough time to untangle the mess of a boy sitting in front of her. “Feel free to call me Kath,” she adds.

It’s not that her house will burn down if she doesn’t get back by a certain time. It’s that she only has so much time before her oldest heads back down to London. Only so much time before her youngest leaves the house for good. Only so many Saturday afternoons with her husband while the house is still this full and they can smile to each other over a banged door or thumping footsteps— soft smiles with glints in their eyes that say yes, yes, they’re meant to enjoy this. The quiet of the house in a few years is going to drive them mad, they already know it.

That being said, she figures she only has so many chances to sit and listen to a young man’s woes. He eats the gifted pizza like it’s the first warm food he’s had in days.

And maybe it is, she figures; her boys have told her what uni is like. Just because in her time at uni the cafeteria service was unquestioned doesn’t mean that nowadays young people don’t get most of their grain from beer and most of their fruit from wine.

Nice warm food costs money; this Dan seems to be short on that right now. But that’s just life when you’re out on your own for the first time, isn’t it? And he’s sure to be guaranteed a nice warm meal if he trudged on home… but that posh little accent.

No, that hot meal would be cold by the time he got his hands on it.

“Tell me about yourself, Dan,” she says. “Where are you from? What are you studying?”

He sets down the crust of his third slice and wipes his face clean of grease. “I’m from Wokingham, down near Reading,” he says. “I’ve only been here in Manchester a few months.” Then his face shifts into a grimace; he looks a little ill and Kath wonders if he’s feeling the effects of having eaten too fast. “I’m studying law,” he says.

“And you’re not liking it one bit,” Kath guesses.

Dan shrugs. “It’s fine.” She can tell he’s lying. He’s not doing much to cover it up.

“Oh dear,” she says. “How are you finding the city?”

Dan shrugs again. “It’s fine.” This time it seems less like a lie; he looks out the window, which is foggy with condensation as the rain continues to pelt down. “I like the big wheel,” he says.

“Do you?” Kath tries offering him a smile.

He smiles back. “Yeah,” he nods, “My grandmother came up here to see me off and she insisted we have a go on it, so we can get a real _feel_ of the city she said. It was nice.”

“That does sound very nice,” Kath says, taking her second slice of pizza. Dan picks up his fourth. “You’re rather close to this grandma, I take it? That’s why no money for the gift hurt you so?”

“Not that you don’t already see me as hopelessly pathetic, Kathryn, but my grandma is like… she’s like the closest I’ve ever had to a best friend.”

Kath’s heart aches at that for a while; because at first she’s very grateful that Dan had someone like his grandmother around to be a friend to him, but she’s curious why this boy never had someone his own age to fill that role. She wonders if he’s just a bit shy, maybe thinks a little outside the box like her own boys. Or heck, maybe he’s a deeply unpleasant person outside of this particular interaction. Maybe his lack of a best friend falls squarely on his shoulders.

But somehow, she doesn’t think so. Sometimes, she supposes, those things all come down to timing. Meeting the right people, at the right time in our lives.

“You said it’s for her birthday you wanted to get her something?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “It’s a week from tomorrow. I kept procrastinating buying something.”

“What sort of thing were you looking for?”

“I thought that mug would do, the one I smashed. It had little botany sketches and the Latin names scrawled on it, and she has an amazing garden. But she also just likes bric-a-brac, kitsch things… clutter. I was trying to find something like that but also something with a use.”

“Mmm,” Kath nods. The little pizza parlour they’re in gets louder for a moment as a great group of people about Dan’s age or a bit older blow in with the wind. They order loudly, and the young girls in the group giggle over something Kath doesn’t quite catch and some of the boys bump into each other a little too rowdily. Dan keeps his head down.

Once the group has left, the parlour quiets down again. Kath weighs her options, figures the worst that will happen is that Dan says no and then she’ll offer to dive him back to campus before they part ways forever. But he might say yes—

“I’ve had a thought…” she says. Dan sets his crust down once more. “My sister-in-law has a lovely handmade knitwear business, bobble hats and scarves and the like. We have years of overflow in the house, I’m sure any of them would make a good fit for your grandmother. And while we’re at it, you can meet my sons and maybe you’ll feel less lonely in this big city.”

Dan blushes before she’s even finished with the offer, “Oh I couldn’t, Kathryn, really. You’ve been so nice, you don’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” Kath waves her hand. “We’ll get a good hot meal in you while we’re at it. My Nigel has some plans for lemon chicken I think tonight, and tomorrow of course we’ll have a proper roast—”

“— I really couldn’t,” Dan says again, “I mean, the pizza was already so much.”

“A pizza isn’t the kind of meal you need, Dan,” Kath says, feeling her most motherly voice coming out. “You need a good home meal, and a present for your grandma, and to know my boys because I’m just a little biased but they’re really wonderful. I only live a short drive away, we’d be there in half an hour.”

Dan thinks it over. Kath takes her third slice to give him the chance to think it over in piece. “It goes against everything I ever learned about stranger danger, y’know.”

Kath laughs, and thankfully Dan laughs along with her. “Yes, well I guess it does.” 

“Still... I suppose you haven’t killed me _yet_.” 

Kath pulls out her mobile, calls her youngest and puts the call on speakerphone. Dan leans forward to listen when she gestures for him. “Hello, Mum,” Phil says when he answers. 

“Hello, Child,” she says, “Could you do me a favour, please?” 

“Sure, what is it?” 

“Would you tell me whether or not I’m in the habit of murdering strange young men for the fun of it?” 

The line is quiet for a moment, then Phil laughs, “Not that I know of...”

“Not that you know of?”

“And not for the fun of it, no, I think you’d have a reason if you did.”

“Well, there you go,” Kath laughs. “Thank you, Phil, I’ll be home in a little bit.” She hangs up after Phil’s goodbye. “There, do you feel assured?”

Dan gives Kath the first proper grin she’s seen from him; it’s a transformation of his whole face— dimpled cheeks and crinkles by sparkling eyes. She’s quite proud of that transformation.

*

She learns a bit more about Dan on the drive back home to Rawtenstall. His mother is a former punk, and his dad once filled his bedroom with artificial snow, and his brother has too much bloody energy, and his grandmother is in a Sudoku club which means she has a far more active social life than Dan. He is nineteen years old. He had spent his gap year increasingly isolated and working a job at Asda he was ill-suited for. He’d spent a brief stint of work experience at a law firm and realised he hated it more than he could have imagined but by then it was too late, he’d been accepted to the University of Manchester, and he would be a fool to turn down a law program like that. 

His first week in Manchester he broke down crying in the cheese aisle. It’s October and he’s only attempted to do laundry once; the experience was traumatic enough that he’s just been buying cheap new socks and pants off of Amazon. 

“Well that’s why you’re out of money, dear,” Kath laughs. 

“The etiquette of the laundromat was too overwhelming, Kathryn!” Dan says, “Someone dumped sopping wet clothes on the floor, tossed in his own clothes for a cycle he didn’t pay for, and then some other freak walked by and stole a single sock from the pile… how could I _possibly_ go back after that?” 

“You may have a point…” Kath nods. Dan watches the window as they drive further out of the city. “Tell me about some things you _do_ like, Dan,” she says. “We seem to have gotten stuck in a rut talking about all the bad.” 

Dan shrugs; Kath can see the gesture out of the corner of her eye while she keeps watching the road. “I dunno,” he mumbles. 

“What’re your hobbies? How do you pass your time when not dodging law lectures?” 

“I guess I read a lot. And listen to music. And play video games. None of those things are, like, marketable skills. They just pass time.” 

Kath smiles despite Dan’s maudlin close. Between her Martyn and the time he spends as a DJ and her Phil and the time he spends with his Xbox, Dan will fit right in. Then she can’t help a laugh at herself slipping out, which Dan doesn’t seem to question— probably assuming she’s laughing at him, she thinks— because how in the world did she decide Dan needed to fit right in? To be folded into her family; how did she end up leaving the house for a normal day in town and now feel responsibility for this sad boy beside her who she just wants to see smile. 

“Hobbies can do a lot worse things than pass time, dear,” she says. She can see him nodding in her peripheral vision. 

They spend the rest of the drive with Kath telling Dan about her men; about Nigel and his art, about Martyn and his music, about Phil and his… well, about Phil and all his loveable oddities. She’d talk about Phil and his video editing, but unlike Nigel’s art and Martyn’s music, Phil’s videos aren’t a hobby anymore, though they were when he was in school. He edits videos freelance now while he thinks about the kind of work he’d like to apply his skills to, something at the BBC or something indie and unusual. 

Then she talks about herself, about her book club and about her game nights, and about how she surrounds herself with people she can care for. She hopes that tells Dan, without having to put it all into words, why she’s so quickly become invested in making sure he’s never again shivering and sobbing in the rain.

The house is suspiciously quiet, Kath thinks when she opens the front door. “Here we are,” she says to Dan who has followed her in. “Let’s find where my men have gone.” 

They find Phil in the kitchen, with a tin of biscuits in one hand and an afternoon coffee in the other. Phil looks curiously at Dan when he notices him; it’s unusual for Kath to just bring home strangers the way she’d bring home an impulse-bought bouquet of flowers. “Hello,” he says, with politeness and confusion mixed in his voice. 

“Phil, this is Dan,” Kath says, “the young man I’m definitely _not_ going to murder.” 

They all chuckle at that, though Dan’s is a little strained. “Y’know,” he says, “when you’re overly specific like that, it doesn’t help the fact that I still definitely think you might…” 

“Ah, she would’ve done it on the drive over,” Phil says, holding out his hand for Dan to shake. 

“Where is everyone?” Kath asks Phil.

“Dad’s at the Robinsons, said he’ll be back in time to start dinner. They’re having some sort of rummage sale. And Martyn’s in town, I think.”

“Spends his limited time here in town, where is that fair?” 

“He has friends to visit too, Mum; he can’t play Scrabble every night.” 

“Well, Dan, I guess you’ll be sitting in for my oldest then.” 

“Am I?” Dan laughs. 

“If you’d like,” Kath nods; she realises then they haven’t actually gone over what’s going on here. What this whole thing is. “I think we’ll relax a little before dinner, I have a heap of calls that need to be made, so maybe Phil can keep you busy and entertained? We’ll eat, play a board game, you and I can go through the knitwear for your grandma before bed—”

“—Bed?” Dan asks, a shiver in his voice and his brow furrowed. 

“Oh, if you’re alright with that, Dan, we have the guest room you can take tonight and I’ll drive you back to uni tomorrow. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll drive you back tonight.” Kath’s suddenly very worried by Dan’s worried expression. “I was only joking about murder,” she says, “I really won’t murder you, I swear.” 

“That’s just what a murderer would say!” Phil laughs. Kath could shake him; she’s only now realising the complete oddity of this situation but really… it all just felt inevitable somehow. And she doesn’t want Dan to be uncomfortable. 

“Er, that’s fine,” he says, “tomorrow’s fine. Thanks.” 

“Great,” she smiles. 

“Great.” Dan’s hands are in his pocket. He’s hunched like before, looking so much smaller than his real height. 

“Great,” Kath says again. “What were you up to, Phil? Could you keep Dan busy while I wrap up work?” 

“I was just playing _Silent Hill_ ,” Phil shrugs. 

Kath smiles all the wider; this strange day is going just fine. “Dan, you said you like video games?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “but I’m rubbish at horror games. I can’t play them alone, I get like way too freaked out.” 

“Let me introduce you to the best horror game ever,” Phil says, “And I promise not to jumpscare you _too_ badly, since you’ve admitted you’re a wimp.” 

Dan’s face breaks into a shy little smile. “Promise?” 

*

Kath hears laughter and teasing and screaming all the way from the second floor while Dan and Phil are in the basement playing their video games. They’re just that loud. 

She makes the calls she needs to make, gets a kiss from Nigel when he returns home, explains the situation as best she can, and the boys are still loudly laughing when she later goes down to call them to dinner. 

It’s amazing, she thinks, how quickly they took to one another. How easily they make each other laugh. How brightly they smile at one another. Amazing, and curious, and… a little dangerous. 

If Phil were looking at a girl Kath had brought home under exactly the same circumstances, well, she would assume he was smitten with her. He just can’t seem to take his eyes off of Dan, and everything one of them says seems to make the other person beam. She doesn’t suppose she’d ever have noticed if they had the slightest bit of subtlety, but they really don’t. 

There’s a tremor of fear that goes through her, something she can’t quite pinpoint. Something that, much as she loves her son, she knows will make his life much, much harder. That’s just the way of the world. Life is harder for boys that are smitten with other boys. And Phil, well, life is already hard enough for him, because he thinks laterally and because he chose an untraditional job and because he gets a little too anxious sometimes. Is it so wrong for a mother to fear her child’s life becoming any more difficult? 

Maybe a laissez-faire approach is best, she thinks. She doesn’t have to know what that blush that spreads across both of their faces means when Phil passes the plate of roasted vegetables to Dan. They’ve only just met, after all. She decides she’ll just see where this goes. 

They have their dinner, and the promised Scrabble game which ends with Phil winning and bragging and Dan only pretending to be bothered. Everyone at the table knows he’s only pretending, because his smile is wide despite the whines. 

Then he and Kath go to dig up Roz’s old overstock, boxes and neatly folded piles of scarves and bobble hats and gloves. Dan picks out a nice forest green hat with a pale cream bobble and a matching circle scarf. Kath digs through the office to find a shipping envelope while Dan writes out a brief letter in place of a card, and once everything is sealed and addressed Kath promises to take it to the post on Monday and have it sent down south to Wokingham. 

“I feel like I just keep saying thank you, but like… really, _really_ , thank you.” Dan looks like he might cry again, but happier this time. Softer, with some choked laughs, if he would let himself. 

Kath figures out then just what it was that made her stop and hand a tissue to Dan all those hours ago— if one of her boys was crying in the rain and far from home, she’d want someone to give them a good meal. She would want someone to do something as simple as paying for postage on a birthday gift. She’s feeling some maternal solidarity with Dan’s mother on the other side of the country; it’s hard to know if your child is well when they’re all alone at uni. Kath’s happy to do what she can.

*

Dan and Phil have abandoned the horror games now that the sun has gone down, for Dan’s sanity and for the sake of everyone’s eardrums. Instead, they are playing _Bubble Bobble_ and Dan is gleeful over the game’s cute design and soundtrack and all of Phil’s anecdotes about playing the game so long ago that Dan was just a toddler at the time. 

Kath walks into the pink-wallpapered playroom with her recipe book in hand and asks, “For no reason in particular, which do you prefer: butterscotch or cinnamon?”

“Oh c’mon, butterscotch all the way,” Phil says. 

“I was asking our guest, Phil.”

“Oh really, Kath, don’t go out of your way,” Dan says with a bright red blush across his face, “I already feel like this must be a bizarre fever dream, like you’re my bloody fairy godmother or something…”

“Answer the question please,” Kath smiles. 

“Butterscotch,” he says.

“Yes!” Phil bumps his shoulder into Dan. “You picked up a street child with taste, Mum.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dan laughs, “I’m not a street child, I’m a fully grown manly man. I live at uni, it has walls and a roof and running water and everything. Quite different from being a street child.”

“Oh, manly man, yeah? Do you even own a cordless hammer drill?”

“What? No… do _you_?”

“Course I do! It’s upstairs, maybe I could show you sometime.” And that, more than anything, was Kath’s cue that she should head upstairs and step into the safety of her kitchen. The same feeling she’d had at dinner overwhelms her. The feeling that if she’d brought home a girl from town, there’s no doubt in her mind she would categorise banter like that as flirting. 

And she doesn’t know what to do about it except ignore it. Ignore the urge to fight against whatever is brewing between her son and the sad boy she had found in the rain. Because Dan seems happier than Kath could have guessed he was capable of, and Phil hasn’t laughed this much in ages. So she has to smother her fear in its bed, an active choice, and one that she thinks is likely to be uncomfortable for a while. If all her observations are even right, after all. But she’ll do it— imperfectly, maybe, but she’ll swallow her worries down and bite her tongue for now. 

Kath goes to bed a few hours later with a butterscotch pie cooling on a trivet her mother had given her as a gift after she and Nigel finished building the house. At least half the pie will be packed up tomorrow along with a box of other goodies for Dan to bring back to the halls, something to tide him over until she can convince him to come round for another proper meal. 

The next morning she knocks on Phil’s door and hears a very familiar groan. Honestly, at 23, he’s a bit old for her to still be doing this. And on the other hand, 10:30am is a perfectly reasonable time for anyone to be woken up. She knocks again and opens the door a crack. 

“Phil,” she says, “wake up, lazybones.” 

He groans again in response, and a hand emerges from the pile of blankets that makes up her youngest son to reach graspingly towards his glasses on his bedside table. 

Next, Kath makes her way across the hall to the guest bedroom. She gives a knock. There’s a tired groan on the other side that matches Phil’s from earlier. Once more, she knocks again and opens the door a crack. “Dan, dear,” she says, “breakfast downstairs, if you get up for it.” 

“Thanks, Kathryn,” Dan mutters sleepily, a restrained grumpiness in his voice, which she excuses because it was restrained after all. 

When both boys make their way downstairs and Kath is waiting at the kitchen table for them, she sees that Dan is wearing some borrowed clothes of Phil’s, including one of his many, many plaid shirts. It’s a short-sleeved red and white and grey one which Kath has seen countless times, but she’s never seen Phil bother to button it up all the way as Dan has done. 

And she hides a smile behind her cup of coffee when she sees that even buttoning it up to the collar hasn’t entirely covered the bruised mark on Dan’s long neck. 

At least he tried. 

She can pretend not to notice. She was smitten once. 

Maybe, she thinks, Phil’s life being a little harder because he’s falling for a boy is worthwhile if it means the smile that’s currently on his face is a new permanent feature. She can keep swallowing down her fear if he keeps smiling like that. 

“Phil, would you teach Dan how to cook scrambled eggs, please?” she asks, knowing it’s actually something in the kitchen that Phil can manage to do without question, “He’s going to wither away if he doesn’t learn how to get some protein.” 

Phil laughs and walks towards the cabinets to pull out a pan. He leaves them open, a very old habit, but before she can scold him for it Dan has already moved behind him and shut them without a word. “The trick is to put just a little dollop of cream in there,” Phil says. 

“No,” Kath says, “the trick is to keep stirring so they don’t burn.” 

“Okay, there’s two tricks.” Dan’s face is pure concentration; if he had been given a pen and paper, he would probably be taking notes. 

A bit later, Nigel is sitting beside her reading the paper while the boys work on pancakes to go with their eggs because it is Sunday after all. When Martyn comes home, he apologises for missing dinner last night with a kiss to her cheek and Kath waves him away in forgiveness. Phil explains to Martyn who Dan is and just what he is doing in their house. 

It’s nice, she thinks. This moment, all of it. Her kitchen feels _right_ like this, filled with all the people she loves taking care of. 

She wishes Cornelia was here as well, and her parents, more hands ready to hold a hot mug of coffee, more stomachs ready for the roast she’s going to begin preparing in a few hours. But even what she has right now, her men— Nigel and Martyn and Phil, and also Dan… Dan, who is warm and dry and fed and smiling— will do just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading— come say hi on [tumblr](http://yikesola.tumblr.com/post/185107825994/phanfiction-events-spring-fic-exchange-prompt) !


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